


My Brother, My King, My Hero

by RobbStarkReborn



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Romance, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 01:07:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1838812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobbStarkReborn/pseuds/RobbStarkReborn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Things turn out much better for the Starks than in the books, with some sibling incest to brighten things up a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Brother, My King, My Hero

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic. Go easy on me. All the Stark kids except for Robb are aged up a bit. Robb/Sansa, Robb plays it smart, Theon isn't an ass, and all the Starks live happily ever after. Shippy fluffy happy ending kinda stuff. A bunch of sexy stuff. Also some good 'ol fashioned action. Fairly wordy. If you liked this work, please read my others. I'd also like feedback, criticism, or suggestions, it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside.

King Robb was in his tent, discussing potential strategies for the siege of Harrenhal with Theon. After the Green Fork, the Whispering Wood, and Riverrun, the newly-crowned King moved to pursue Lord Tywin to Harrenhal rather than an offensive thrust at the heart of the West. So here he stood, planning to strangle the war in its infancy rather than turning it into a protracted conflict. Like Daeron the Young Dragon, he mulled, but perhaps without the colossal losses and the deserts of Dorne. "Robb!" Theon's voice snapped him back to reality. "What? What is it?" A pair of guards in jerkins stood at the flap of his tent, looking sleep-deprived yet at attention in the presence of their king. "Yer grace, this one here claims to know you. We guessed you don't know 'im, but better to look like a fool than risk a flogging, beggin' yer pardons." Only then did Robb notice the scrawny, dirty boy between them, with one of the guards hands wrapped tightly around his wrist. "Tell them Robb, tell them you know. Tell them I'm your sister." Only then did Robb scrutinise this boy, realising with rapidly expanding joy that this was indeed Arya. "A-Arya?" he stuttered out, his usual prevailing calm utterly abandoning him at the sight of his filthy little sister. He rushed to her and surrounded her in one great hug. "Leave us." he said, only barely avoiding a crack in his voice. He gestured to Theon, indicating that he ought to follow the pair of guards out into the night. "How.. How did you get here? Where have you been? Have you seen Mother?" Arya pushed away from him, tears welling in her eyes. "I escaped from the city.. The day that they killed Father.. Sansa's still there. I was going North with a brother of the Night's Watch, but the Lannisters killed him and took me to Harrenhal. I heard the guards talking about how you were here, and I snuck out with my friends."

"Friends?" inquired Robb, and she stuck her head out and summoned two boys, one nearly his age and muscled like an ox, and another several years younger with a girth that would be comparable to Lord Manderly if he were but a bit older. He embraced both as brothers and stepped back. "The Starks of Winterfell owe you both a great debt for returning my sister to us. Tell me, what are your names, and where are you from?" The older one spoke up first. "Well, Your Grace, my name's Gendry, and I was a blacksmith's apprentice before the Lannister came for me. I don't rightly know why, but here I am." The other, much fatter boy spoke next. "And I was from King's Landing too, mil-Your Grace, and I was a baker's boy, but my ma died and I didn't have nowhere to go but the Watch. I've never had no name, everyone's always just called me Hot Pie." "Well then, Gendry and, uh, Hot Pie, my guards will see that you both have a place to put your heads. Tomorrow I will summon you both and we'll see what we can do with you. In the meantime, Arya, I'll see that you get a bath and then we can go see Mother." He put his hand on her shoulder. "You've been very brave, little sister. I'm so proud of you." He mussed her hair and dimly recalled that Jon used to do something indentical. He missed his bastard brother, and wished that he was here with him, to fight his battles with him, council him, and be just dependable as he was when they were children, Night's Watch or no. He called for a servant, and told him to bring food and draw a bath for Arya. He then marched out of his tent to track down his mother and reunite her with her scruffy daughter at last. When at last they were reunited, it brought tears to his eyes to see his family slowly being pieced back together.

* * *

Sansa stares blankly at the Red Keep from one of the many gardens clustered around it. Red, she mused, was the perfect color for such a blood-stained place. How many men, women, and children have been violently killed here, she wondered. Too many, and she shuddered to think about it. Her guards were never far from her, but even so she could move about the keep at will. Her sewing and embroidery were never far from her hands, for she had little else to do but sew, embroider, and wander keep, stopping to chat with those she liked, did not know, and despised alike. But soon she would be freed, she thought to herself, and said a quick prayer to all the Seven that may come true. Robb, her oh-so brave and strong older brother was already coming to save her. He no longer dallied in the Riverlands, but was marching through the Crownlands, and she had heard maids gossiping that he had already passed Castle Stokeworth and accepted their surrender.

Later that day, she stood fast against yet another beating for her brother's successes in the field. A week later, standing on one of the walls, her perceptibly nervous guards close behind her, she looked out at the great camps that her Robb had set up, and was fortifying against any attacks from the outside. He has come this far, she thought, her heart leaping, and they dare not kill me, for he has Lord Tywin and the Kingslayer. Even if Joffrey ordered me killed, his mother the Queen would never allow it. She had heard whispers that she had once struck him in full view of the servants, and she did not doubt it. But Queen Cersei would never allow her twin brother and father to come to harm, so she knew she was safe. From death at least, the beatings would not stop, certainly not now that Joffrey himself is in danger. That night, long after she went to bed, she suddenly heard the clashing of steel on steel and ran to her to door, and barred it shut, then grabbed the dagger that her handmaiden had smuggled to her one day. She then sat down on her bed, and sang the Mother's Hymn.

" _Gentle Mother, font of mercy, Save our sons from war, we pray. Stay the swords and stay the arrows, Let them know a better day. Gentle Mother, strength of women, Help our daughters through this fray. Soothe the wrath and tame the fury, Teach us all a kinder way. Gentle Mother, font of mercy, Save our sons from war, we pray. Stay the swords and stay the arrows, Let them know a better day._ "

Over and over she sang, until her her throat was dry, and even then she sang on as the sounds of war neared her door. Suddenly a man's voice rang out from behind her door. "Sansa! Sansa, are you in there?" After a moment, she realised that it was the voice of Robb. When did his voice get so deep, she wondered? "Y-Yes, I am here. Is that truly you, Robb?" she said, her voice cracking more than she expected. "Sansa, unbar the door, we're here now, you're safe." Sansa rushed to the door and lifted the bar, and opened it cautiously. Her brother, her knight in shining armor, stood there dressed for war, with a newly-grown beard, and a sword in his hand. He was covered in blood, as was his sword, but she didn't care. He was here for her, at last.

The last thing Sansa ever expected her calm, collected, born-to-lead brother to do was burst into tears, but he did anyway, or perhaps because of that. He hugged her so fiercely she thought her head might pop for a moment, until he loosened his grip, as she hugged him back with equal ferocity. "We're not done yet, Sansa. We still have lions to kill," he mumbled into her shoulder, and with that he took her hand, and lead her into the throne room. There the Kingsguard, the false knights, who had beaten her so cruelly, stood there surrounded by Northmen bearing direwolves, flayed men, mermen, and winter suns. On the hideous Iron Throne sat Joffrey, with the same look of fear in his eyes that she had seen when Arya's direwolf Nymeria had pinned him to the ground that day by the Trident. Next to him, with a look very foreign to her face, sat Cersei Lannister, in utter fear, both for herself and her knave of a son. Tyrion Lannister, the Imp, stood on the dais, with his squire, and his sellsword companion, all three looking fairly nonchalant, given the circumstances. Theon Greyjoy stood beside the door, bow in hand, and Robb stood where all could see him. "It's over, Lannisters. Just set down your arms and we can get your deaths over with." barked Robb in a voice that she thought sounded a lot like their father must have, when he was younger. "Never!" Joffrey shrieked, and with that a great bear of a man with the giant of House Umber emblazoned on his armor charged forward to kill Ser Meryn Trant, while Theon drew his longbow and put an arrow through Ser Mandon Moore's throat from across the room. The Hound growled, which Sansa thought to be rather appropriate, and engaged a pair of Karstark footmen, when suddenly a rather slender and pale man in black ringmail and a pink cloak grabbed him from behind and opened his throat to the bone with a dagger, as blood gushed onto the floor, turning the Red Keep that much more red. Joffrey squealed, as though with the Hound could have saved him and his mother single-handedly. The remaining Kingsguard tensed up and prepared to fulfill their oaths to their boy king. The Northmen quickly dispatched them and Robb motioned for his men to seize the royal family. The slender and pale man, who Sansa realized must be a Bolton, climbed the dais and grabbed the Queen, while the massive Umber man hauled the boy king screaming, kicking, and crying, down from his glorified chair, and a group of men subdued the Imp and his toadies, and the whole royal family was marched towards the door. Robb turned to her and said "Look away, Sansa. You don't want to see this." And so Sansa turned, hoping he would not kill him without her there to see it, but she did hear a tremendous punch resound, then the sound of a man pissing, Theon cackling all the while. Robb gestured to her, and she turned around to see the golden king's face bruised, bleeding, and covered in piss, and with that she spat in his face, which set the great Umber man roaring with laughter. "The young lady has more balls than you, little King," he exclaimed, "beggin' your pardon, my lady."

An hour or so later, Sansa, Robb, Arya, Catelyn, Theon, Grey Wind, and a great many of the Young Wolf's bannermen stood before the great Sept of Baelor, with the sun just beginning to rise above the horizon. But this time the Lannisters, Tywin, Jaime, Cersei, Tyrion, and Joffrey stood awaiting their deaths, rather than her father. Then Robb drew Ice, finally returned to the Starks, and with a single great stroke, lopped off Lord Tywin's head. Next Tyrion was pushed onto the block. "Wait, Stark! I have been judged innocent of any crimes I may have committed against your brother by the Gods themselves!" exclaimed Tyrion. Robb paused at that, then said in a voice like ice, "Your Gods. Not mine." And with that removed the youngest Lannister's head. Next was Jaime the Kingslayer, but instead of Robb a much older man bearing the winter sun of House Karstark approached, and as Robb handed him Ice, he looked to be almost gleeful as he removed the Kingslayer's head from his body. But he was not content to simply remove it, and he picked it up and shoved it in Cersei's face as she bawled like a child. Robb next grabbed Joffrey and nearly threw him onto the block, Joffrey screaming insults at him and his family and Sansa at first but as his death neared he cried for his mother until Robb ended him. The queen was last, apparently so she could witness the death of her family before her own. When he had ended her, the eerie Bolton man approached Robb and inquired as to whether he may flay the bodies, as a warning to the enemies of the North. "You may, Lord Bolton," said Robb warily, "I do not approve, but you may nonetheless. But the heads are mine." With that he grabbed the head of the mad boy-king, and raised up to a crowd of screaming Northmen who chanted, "The King in the North! The King in the North!" over and over, as Grey Wind howled at the dawn. He looked to Sansa, her brother, her king, her hero, and she mouthed the words to him. " _The King in the North._ "

The next day, Sansa watched as Robb put the five heads on spikes above the King's Gate himself. All for his love of her.

* * *

"How did you do it?" asked Sansa one day, as they made the long journey back home, back to Winterfell. She knew that they were somewhere in the northern riverlands but they had yet to reach the Twins. At the beginning of the war, rather than barter and bargain with the Late Lord Frey, Robb had simply gone south and crossed near where Robert Baratheon and Rhaegar Targaryen once clashed. "Save all of us, that is." Robb thought for a moment, Grey Wind padding along at his horse's feet. "Well, when Arya came to us at our camp outside of Harrenhal, she told us of weak spots, where the Lannisters had fewer men and where the walls seemed weakest, and with that we took the castle and Lord Tywin. And then the 'siege' of King's Landing was really just a diversion. A hundred men and I scaled Aegon's Hill while the castle slept, and took it quickly enough." What Sansa had meant was, how could you be so brave and strong and gallant, but she didn't tell Robb that.

* * *

Robb was sound asleep when the scream tore through the castle, jolting him awake and sending him running, dagger in hand, to Sansa's room, Grey Wind already pawing at the door, only to find her in bed, drenched in sweat and tears, yet not in imminent danger. "Robb," she sobbed, "Hold me.." and so he held her. Many nights later, as he came in to lay beside her and save her from her dreams just as he did every night, just as he had once saved her from monsters in their games as children, she held him instead, and kissed him.

* * *

It seemed to Catelyn that even once the war had been won, with the Lannisters dead and gone, and the North freed, that Sansa's war had never truly ended. She had horrible, horrible nightmares, begging for mercy, and pledging undying loyalty to her beloved Joffrey, which could only be sated by Robb.  She only slept if he came in and held her tight like a child, and he got little sleep, but she was his sister, and he loved her, so he continued to do it despite his growing sleep deprivation and his mother's insistent pleas. But he was a king now, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. Winterfell was the capitol of a kingdom that stretched from the Gift just south of the Wall all the way to the Stoney Sept in the Riverlands, and the duties of the King of the North had increased greatly since the days of the King Who Knelt, and it weighed heavily on Robb. Catelyn wanted to talk with him, reassure him, and entreat him once again to return to his own bed and get some sleep, but today he seemed to be absentee. Arya mentioned that she saw him go to the Godswood, which didn't surprise her. If she lived the life of her son, she would pray fervently, too. As she entered the thickly wooded and shady forest within the walls of Winterfell, she saw no sign of her son. Perhaps he's gone deeper into the wood, Catelyn wondered, and with that wandered off into the Godswood. Then she saw him. Robb sat there, under an ironwood tree, deep in the Godswood, with Sansa practically glued to him, tongues swirling together, his hands feeling, exploring, hers tangled in his auburn curls. They broke off with gasps for breath, and Sansa looked up at him, blue eyes shining like great sapphires set in ivory, and at that moment Catelyn realized the relationship between her eldest children was anything but normal. A thousand thoughts raced through her mind about Targaryens and Lannisters, and with each new, terrible thought she grew more and more panicked, and so she left, quickly and quietly. Catelyn sought out solitude in the sept, where she could sit, pray, bemoan her wayward children, and cry.

* * *

That night, while the castle slept, Sansa snuck off to the chambers of the lord of Winterfell, once her father's. Robb was waiting for her there and they embraced. Slowly they shed their clothes, touching and kissing as they went, until they were in their smallclothes. He realized as she stood before him nearly naked that she was no longer the child who left Winterfell bound for the south, and death, but a woman, tall, beautiful, and kind. "Robb." She says his name, and clutches to his chest, taking him in, and they tumbled onto his bed. They shed their last clothes, and he finds his hands sliding up her body and up to her breasts, caressing them, and she shivered as he ghosted over her pink nipples. They linger there, and slowly massage her softest skin as his sister, his lovely, sweet, Sansa moans and writhes under his touch. Suddenly Robb remembers who they are, what they are doing, and it terrifies him, but only briefly, because his attention is immediately snapped back to his sister, who, taking him in her hand, lifts herself up and onto his length, eliciting a deep moan from him and only the slightest change of expression on Sansa's face as she slides down onto him, breaking her maidenhead, and they sit there for a moment, eyes locked together, and his sister, his lover, cups his face in her silken hands, and kisses him and he kisses back, thrusting now, and she whimpers as her brother, her king, her lover, pushes deeper and deeper into her, groaning her name in pleasure, and she echoes him and pants his name breathlessly between kisses, and soon they're moving faster, and edging closer and closer to their climaxes, their auburn hair falling together, both coated in a sheen of sweat, and Sansa dully realizes that they are like two sides of the same coin, and wonders if this is what Cersei and Jaime Lannister felt. But her thoughts are interrupted with a wave of pleasure and she and her brother writhed and held each other, and Robb buried his head in her neck as he only barely muffled his shouts of pleasure, calling her name as he spilled inside her, again and again, and she too felt her climax take her and she dragged her nails down her king's back, crying out in ecstasy, then nearly collapsing onto him, her breasts pressing against his chest. "Sansa." groans her knight in shining armor, the one who saved her, loved her, and so she groans back, "Robb." as they curl up and renew their kissing. That night both Sansa and Robb slept soundly, for the first time in ages.

* * *

The next day, they stand before the heart tree, mournful as always, and marry. Despite the protests of their mother, siblings, and the unvoiced protest of many people of the North, they marry, uniting brother and sister as husband and wife. Robb has a crown forged for her, much like his own, and so they ruled together, true wolves of winter.

* * *

Many moons later, Queen Sansa, adored by the highborn, idolized by the smallfolk, bears a son, who King Robb names Eddard, after their shared father. He is born with a head full of auburn hair and glistening blue eyes, and soon is follow by Lyanna, Rickard, Brandon, and Catelyn, beautiful all, with their parents shared hair and eyes. One night, at a great feast, Sansa overhears the Greatjon say while tremendously drunk, "Our king is the best king in Westeros, and don't you be forgetting it! He has his own odd tastes, our king, but we wouldn't be here without him, now would we?" Sansa agreed with that statement. She, for one, would not be here, were it not for her brother. Her brother, her lover, her husband, her king.. Her knight in shining armor. Perhaps not all the songs are wrong, Sansa mused.

 


End file.
